Tuesday Twilights
by Phoebsfan
Summary: Compainion piece to Monday Mornings. Tuesday nights and chinese food. Plus a dead body. Come on with a mix like that how can you lose right...hehehehe...jk... good old fashioned x-files.


Tuesday Twilights  
  
Disclaimer: Gee I can't imagine you guys actually believe that I'm Chris Carter but if you do that rocks and I love you forever. Still I feel the need to inform you that I am not. Therefore Mulder, Scully, and the bunch belong not to me but to him and his evil associates....sad I know. Trust me I'm torn up about the whole thing. Maybe one day I'll get to write for a show that kicks asp as much as the X-Files has but until then...I got fanfic.  
  
Summery: Gee well reading fic tonight I thought of this other fic I really enjoyed writing called Monday Mornings...and so I thought hmm...let's see if I can get the old X-Files muse back into the swing of things. Thus we get this.  
  
Rating: PG I don't think I'll go as foul mouthed as I have in the past.  
  
  
  
She sighs as she carts the latest victum to the table. He'll want results, he'll want answers. She knows she should trust his instinct. That nine times out of that ten he's right and that science is going to do little to explain why Mr. Doe here is not out playing pool, getting drunk, or making love...all of which are things she wouldn't be opposed to doing instead of this. But she's here anyway. Secretly she knows she would rather see his face light up when she tells him he's right. She'd rather sink into her hotel bed and listen to him ramble on about the newest development. She'd rather eat chinese food right from the cartons as he tries to explain it all to her. She smiles, she knows she shouldn't be, but she's slightly greatful that Mr. Doe isn't playing pool tonight. That's what tuesdays evenings are for and she can't remember a time when she did anything else.  
  
  
  
That is the past.  
  
This Mr. Doe should be out playing pool. She should be catching up with Mulder. He's only in town until friday and he's risking it by staying that long. As it is Monica and John don't even know he's in town.  
  
Her mother doesn't know he's in town. Skinner doesn't know he's in town. Not even Frohike, Byers, or Langly know he's in town.  
  
She has kept that to herself.  
  
It pained her to wake up this morning. Pained her to crawl out of bed and go to work while he slept on. She left him a note. Made extra coffee and left it warming. Made sure to leave him warm water. She knows it's silly, that he has driven for days and that he will probably want to sleep late.  
  
That by the time he crawls out of bed the warm water would have returned and the coffee will have a slight funk to it but this only makes her smile more.  
  
It only matters that this evening. This tuesday night, she has no plans of staying alone with William.  
  
Tonight on her way home from work she is going to stop by a little chinese restuarant, The Yellow Dragon, and bring him home some take out. She used to go there all the time. When they weren't out on a case they'd share chinese at her place or his while they talked about their latest case. While they fixed their latest problem or paved over the latest development in their relationship.  
  
Many appoligies were sealed with sweet and sour chicken. Many promises kept with egg rolls.  
  
They are going to sit on her bed and eat it straight from the carton. They are going to catch up.  
  
She wonders if Mr. Doe likes chinese food. There are people who don't. She contimplates asking the question aloud. She knows it's another one of those silly things that mean nothing. One of those things that if someone caught her doing it, would cause her to blush and fumble over her explaination. But she's in a silly mood.  
  
She's happier then she's been in months, years possibly. Because even before, before William and before Mulder's abduction. Things had never gone so well for her and Fox Mulder.  
  
She can't help the cheesy grin pasted on her face. Can't help the lightness in her step or the giddy feeling in her heart. He's back. Even if it is only temperary.  
  
They are being foolish. She knows this. She knows how increadably dangerous it is for him to come out of hiding like he has. She knows that he can't leave her apartment for fear that someone will see him.  
  
She knows he's probably already a dead man, that her appartment is most likely bugged and that he should have arranged to meet her in a hotel room or some other spot less likely.  
  
But the fact that he drove across the country just to see her smile holds more weight with her right now then any real or imagined threats might.  
  
She hums as she cuts into Mr. Doe. She floats around him like some kind of angel of justice, bent on finding out the cause of his death, finding the evidence that will convict his killer. And still she smiles.  
  
The causul observer might think her odd. That she should be smiling at such a moment, humming as she weighs his heart, might seem irreverant. But she is sure that Mr. Doe does not mind. And that he is smiling for her right now.  
  
Because Mr. Doe knows that tonight she will be with him. He knows that tonight she won't cry herself to sleep. Tonight when William cries she will smile and get him then turn to Mulder and wake him up as well. He knows that she will let the man she is sharing her bed with, hold William until he stops crying. That the two of them will look at the child that, they may not have created, but that they love as though they did.  
  
Mr. Doe knows that this is a rare opportunity for them and so he will allow them that time. And she knows that he is wishing the best for them.  
  
She feels inclined to thank him for it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He shuffles through the files waiting impatiently for her to return. She will have the answers he needs in a small folder carried in her firm, steady, and very capable hands. Hands that were encased in latax as she discovered the mysteries that Mr. Doe's body held. He paces her hotel room. Tuesday evenings were reserved for her room. His room, though not yet cluttered by notes and his belongs as it would be in the coming days, is off limits. He doesn't understand why this is, but it is the way they have done it for years and it is the way they will continue to do it. Just as his impatience for her return is routine, so is their tuesday night meeting.  
  
  
  
She was gone when he awoke.  
  
He is not surprised. She needs to keep up appearances if they are going to pull this off.  
  
She left him a note, William is at her mother's, she is at work. She will be home around five and she will be bringing dinner.  
  
He hopes it's chinese. That is what they usually had on tuesday nights. He hopes that she will let him eat it out of the carton on the couch, or if he's lucky on her bed.  
  
There's something more then intimate about eating his dinner on her bed.  
  
Something homey, something comfortable and stable. He didn't think he'd wanted that. But he does. She's always there making sure he knows what he needs. Without her he finds himself lost and wandering.  
  
She knows he needs her to pretend for a bit longer. He doesn't know why they pretend, but he knows he needs it if he is to go back on friday.  
  
He wants to play house with her. He never thought he would but he does. He wants it so badly that when she picked up William yesterday and brought him home, when she placed his son in his arms, they ached and his eyes filled with tears for the time he has missed.  
  
He wants to watch his son grow. He wants to be there when he says his first word. Wants to argue with his son's mother over how 'mama' sounded more like 'dada' to him. Wants to be there when he takes his first step. There is so much he has missed.  
  
So much about them both that has changed.  
  
He held her in his arms yesterday. He ran his hands through her silky hair. Her hair is longer now. He likes to play with it, twist it in his fingers, gently tug on it's ends. She smiles and lets him. He knows that she likes it when he takes interest in little things like that. It makes her feel special.  
  
Though he doesn't understand how she could not feel special. He doesn't understand how she could not know exactly what he would do for her. Does not understand how she could still want him to make her feel special and not some other man.  
  
But she does want him. She told him so last night.  
  
Her pillow smells of her. He breathes her in. If he can not be at work with her then he wants to be where she lives. He wants to be surrounded by her belongings.  
  
Right now he thinks that the current Mr. Doe is one lucky bastard.  
  
She runs away from him to be with a dead man. And right now her hands, god how he loved those hands, were busy on Mr. Doe. Yes Mr. Doe was one lucky dead guy. If such a thing could be said.  
  
He laughs at himself. He is getting jealous of a dead man. He really must have it bad.  
  
His cheeks are starting to hurt he realizes as he finds the coffee, still warm but slightly stale. Much better then the government issue but still off. It doesn't bug him. He'd drink vats of the government issue just to be with her. He has in fact.  
  
He needs to stop smiling so much. His face is not used to it and he's cheeks are burning. But he can not help it. And he does not want to try to change it.  
  
He's the happiest he's been in his entire life. Even if this does kill him, he will be able to say that he had everything for one blissful week. Surely Mr. Doe could not say the same.  
  
How many people are lucky enough to get everything? No, he takes back his earlier comment about Mr. Doe. He, Fox Mulder, is one lucky bastard. Because after she is done at work she is coming home to him.  
  
They are going to eat chinese food on her bed. They are going to play with William. They are going to go to bed together. When William wakes in the night she will turn to him and push him toward the craddle. She will whisper, "It's your turn." She will turn over and try to go back to sleep as he stumbles blindly toward his son.  
  
It will be perfect. It will be heaven. What did he ever do to deserve this?  
  
He feels inclined to tell Mr. Doe he's sorry.  
  
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"Mulder?" she calls out as she closes the door behind her. She balances William in one arm, she holds a bag with the chinese food in the other.  
  
He gets up from his seat on the couch and grabs William from her, delighting in the small cooing sounds that escape from his son's throat.  
  
"Scully you shouldn't have." he teases looking at his son.  
  
"Sorry but he isn't for you." she smiles. "But this is." she holds up the bag of food and he smiles.  
  
"I'm starving." he comments as he follows her, not to the kitchen but to her bedroom. She understands, he smiles again.  
  
"You're always starving." She starts to pull out the food producing all his favorites.  
  
"Scully I'm touched. Now if there's an iced tea in that bag it could be love." he jokes.  
  
"Well what do you know." she produces a beverage and he smiles.  
  
"God I love tuesdays."  
  
"Me too. Me too." 


End file.
